


our teeth and ambitions are bared (be prepared)

by icygrace



Category: The White Queen (TV)
Genre: Character and other tags to be added, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 14:04:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8670466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icygrace/pseuds/icygrace
Summary: This is what you get when you put the devil on the throne of England.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The White Queen et al. do not belong to me and dialogue quoted from particular episodes/books definitely does not belong to me.
> 
> Title from “Be Prepared” from The Lion King.

_April 1471_

 

Face grave, the messenger bows slowly and suddenly she is afraid. If the news were good, the lad would be bursting with it, proud to bring the king’s mother good tidings. His manner reminds her uncomfortably of the man who delivered the news of her husband’s death over a decade ago.

 

“Madam, I regret to inform you that your son, the King, was killed in battle at Barnet,” he finally manages.

 

One of her ladies helps her to a chair when her knees give out. She grabs at the armrests with an iron grip. Surely it is not so. Edward has been ever successful in battle –

 

As if from a far-away distance, she hears Lady Sutcliffe ask, “And the Duke of Clarence?”

 

If Edward is truly gone, God would not take George from her also; he could not, not her precious boy, her –

 

“He fell beside King Edward.”

 

She cannot help the strangled cry of distress that emerges from her throat. Her favorite son dead with her eldest! She will surely die of a broken –

 

“God rest their souls,” Lady Sutcliffe whispers, crossing herself. “What –” She can hear her friend’s hesitation. “What of Gloucester?”

 

She did not fall to pieces after losing her beloved husband and Edmund only because there were her other children to think of; she could not afford to. But if she should have lost all her sons, what –

 

“He lives.”

 

She inhales sharply. _Thank God._ “Thank God.” It is only then that she begins to weep. “My sons. My sweet boys.”

 

“Wine for Her Grace,” Lady Sutcliffe calls. “You are sure?” she demands of the messenger.

 

The messenger nods.

 

“Where is he now?”

 

“When it was clear the battle was lost, Earl Rivers persuaded the duke to flee so they might secure the Prince of Wales, as was. Young King Edward, now.”

 

“Drink this,” Lady Sutcliffe whispers, pressing a goblet of malmsey into her hand moments later.

 

In a most unladylike fashion, she gulps down half all at once.

 

“Take heart, Cecily,” Lady Sutcliffe urges. “Take heart. All is not lost.”

 

_All is not lost._


End file.
